High Time
by PsuedonymSim
Summary: Children on the streets in New York, New York fighting it out against an undead plague. How will they survive?
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my world… A dark environment that breeds hatred, lust, and power. This is a story of children that lost their innocence in an hour.**

**T**hey looked like us. Human, only to the eye. Until you got close enough to smell their rotten flesh. I happened to touch one of them. Their skin ruptures with the slightest pressure applied, and the stench is nearly impossible to remove. It's much more revolting than the smell of formaldehyde on a taxidermists' hands. I felt like I needed to bathe, but washing the smell would cause you only to stand out more. They could identify you from your smell. They could hear you, but the only judgments that they didn't possess was the ability to see. Staring blankly back at you, from their deformed bodies, twisting their eyes around to express their interest in a location though they never recognize it. They were animals on a leash, and we were their treats at a distance. This leash would not hold. How did we get here?

"**Damien," **Missy yelled, seeing me in a position that was all to familiar to me. But, still, I didn't want her to see it. I didn't want her to see me in the dumpster, behind the school building, where I'd been mugged.

"Yeah?" I stated, shuffling into a corner.

"You ok?" Her eyes met mine.

"No." My head was bloodied, and my black, curled, woolly, hair was caked together from the mess. She attempted to console me. I pushed her away. I couldn't help it. I wanted to be ignored, just as the teachers ignored me, and I didn't want help. "You know…"

"Know, what?" She interrupted.

"You know I don't like to be seen like this. I know you think I'm weak and incapable of helping myself. But this is enough. It's high time I get to be like the dead, at peace, and forgotten."

"They _aren't _forgotten."

"Says you." My words to her were sharp. I knew she'd lost her parents in a catastrophe, the twin tower catastrophe, but she didn't need my help to fix that broken mirror that was her figure. She was alright in everyone else's mind. She just had a pious attitude that led her to look after others.

She turned away, looking at the ground, kicking the gravel with my fresh blood on it, and looked up only because of a blood curdling scream that approached from our rear. We turned around, staring at a mass that convened on another. It pulled away at the other's body and large pieces of "something" were torn away. We stepped back in terror, too afraid to scream, running in our minds but unable to move. We shivered, urging ourselves to move. A warm liquid trickled down her and my legs alike. We were in no position to make fun or prod at each other. I looked up, thinking that I was going to faint or wake up. I didn't understand what I was doing. Then, I realized she was in my arms while I ran, escaping from the murder.

This day was bad. Ominous to a degree…


	2. Chapter 2

I found my way into the darkness. We were tired. The creature that struck another man down, that struck us with awe, was far behind. I looked up to the wall that now separated me from absolute freedom. My soul was crushed. I was never athletic, this in part led me to be bullied, but I had a duty which was to help her to survive. I placed her on the ground, she was still trembling in my arms, and wiped the smooth liquid from my skin. I inhaled deeply, and began to search for something, anything, that could help me in the event that I must fight. My hand touched a cold, cold, surface. I felt a surge of strength. I knew what I had to do. But, waiting to do it was hard. After all, this creature I was fighting was another person. Though, I have never seen a person able to tear another person limb from limb. Something was wrong.

It came, in a moment, heating my soul like a kerosene soaked match, and I was going to be burned. Somewhere, I felt the urge to abandon all hope of fighting this monster. It was strange, this person was no different than I was, but he obviously was a murderer. I looked to his body for weapons; there were none. I shifted back and forth, cornering myself in between it, Missy, and a wall. Missy was now behind me, but she was no safer than I. I lifted my arm, and attempted to swing down on the man. His hand raised up and met the steel crow-bar. His bone shattered causing his fore-arm to go limp. It was like an overcooked noodle from a bad lo-mein shop. I was disgusted with myself, spewed vomit on his face, and began to swing like a maniac. The man wasn't taken by surprise to my defense. He walked through my barrage of assaults holding his arms out without a care for the physical damage. He slung his dangling, twisted, form around like a whip in an attempt knock the bar from my hands. I pulled the bar close to my body, to which the man stepped in and began to bite at me voraciously. His weight, now on the bar, was tremendous. I realized at this point his balance was near non existent. Yet, as I said before, I am not athletic.

Mustering all the strength I could, I shoved the man away. I heaved intensely, while he still pressured me. I was less harmed than this man, spare some bruises, but psychologically, I was weakening. I saw myself snapping, like a chord under too much tension, and snarled like an animal. Recalling a lesson in baseball, I took the crow-bar to my side, holding it near my ear, and swung low. As I swung, I rotated my hip, stepping in towards the creature, and took a firm hit to its knee. The knee fell in like a house of cards. The noise rang out in my ears like an alarm. I immediately pounced on the man's form. I pinned his arms down and jabbed his eyes out with the base of my bar. Repeatedly, I bashed his head. Blood sprayed across my face, but I no longer needed to look at my enemy. I closed my eyes, stopping the potentially dangerous liquid from entering my blood-stream, and hammered away. I heard a gurgle. Then, I realized this was my first time hearing the creature's form of vocalization. I looked to my right, back to the alley, where Missy was. My face must have been frightening, but she smiled. I reached my hand out to her and began to move towards the entrance of the enclosure. There, I saw a mangled body walking towards us. My mind connected the dots. A low moaning creature that ignores pain and has tremendous strength… Is a **Zombie.**


	3. Chapter 3

I could now feel free. Like a bird that finally learned to fly, learned its truth, I too could do things I once could not. The simple fact that an unimaginable thing had led my life to be turned around was euphoric. I had not been anything for these past fifteen years, but now, I could anything. The thoughts about destruction, distortion, destitution, and other _wild_ images convened on one another within my mind. This maze of emotion began to speak to me in a third person and granted me a false sense of enlightenment. I looked to Missy, holding her hand more tightly and deeply planted my lips into hers. She stood there, eyes wide with fear, confusion, and anticipation, allowing her legs to buckle under her weight. I allowed her to slowly rest upon the grounds a good distance from the unidentifiable mass that once was a person, and then started to the other creature.

There was an awkward silence that separated me from my human self. I realized that I was no longer the Damien that I once was. I was the king of this concrete jungle, marking his territory with blood, and I wouldn't let anything or anyone have what was mine anymore. I tensed my hand that held onto the crowbar and charged towards the creature. My arm whisked back; I aimed for its head. With precision, I struck the creature on the head. He extended his mangled hand towards me, coughing blood. I noticed a difference in the beings eyes. I realized the face that was partially missing, caved in upon its self, that lacked hope was the same face that taunted me. I was flooded with my human self once more as that being crumpled like a plastic bag in the wind, tossing, turning until it was out of sight. He was my bully.

(Deep Reflection)

"Yo."

That voice was deep, mellow, and dangerous. It sounded like a booming cannon ready to tear through the fodder that I was considered.

"You got my monies, sons?"

I trembled.

"I know you hear me, mans. **Answer me!"**

His face was flushed with red. He could have been drunk. After noticing this, I returned his remark with a feeble one of my own. "Ju-just leave me alone, man. I ain't done nothing to you."

He began to come after me.

"D'jyu just talk back to me?" He asked. He clasp his hands made of iron together making a thunderous noise. "You talkin' to meh?"

He was closer than I could imagine. I noticed the others gathering around him. They were like wolves after an injured prey. Only, this time, the wolf pack chose to devour a feeble animal that they considered "easy".

"Jauwny, you see this kid? He jus' talked back to me."

Johnny tilted his head up. He attempted to acknowledge the apparent leader in this group without talking.

"Yea, how'sa bout I kick his ass?"

Johnny nodded. He began to walk towards me. I stepped back, facing the boys as if I was facing a reflection of my fears, and attempted to close myself in mentally. I simply closed my eyes. I noticed the snake like hands and fingers of the two boys who were attempting to restrain me come across my shoulders, biceps, and wrists. I began to kick, struggling, like a buck caught in the mouth of a cougar. My efforts were futile. A hand was brought into my stomach. My eyes were pried open with fingers that had no definition. I had to watch the impending doom lay upon my flesh like the wrath of god biting away my soul. My spirit was bound with simple jeers, the words of my peers, casting me further from my reality. I found that the forms of men now changed to the formless shadows that haunted me in my nightmares, scaring me from my sleep. They didn't stop until I closed my eyes. I woke up, hearing Missy, my one true love, calling my name.

(Back to the Zombie Event)

"Kaz… I'm so sorry. I didn't want to kill you, but… You might be infected. It's too late for you. I- I have to."

CRACK...!


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors note: Thanks Kopycat for my first reviews of a fanfic. Ilmy(I love my fans), and I'll continue to improve on my writing skills. Recently, I've been facing a dilemma of how to make my chapters longer. So, I've been practicing how to expand. Comment as you see fit. This is chapter four.**

(_Missy's PoV_)

His face was covered in blood after the first kill. I was shocked to see him like that. His normal timid, weak, expression was drowned out in a frenzy of fear, anxiety, and passion. I knew he was only fighting for me. I know him too well. He wouldn't fight for any other reason. He loves me, and I can't help but smile. When he looked to me for comfort, I took his extended hand, and ran with him. When my legs were weak, he carried me. It only seemed right. There are a lot of things that people do because they seem right. Now, as I face the second time he fought, so soon again, I can't control my emotions. I have to… I have to stop him.

(Shift to third.)

"**STOP!"** screamed Missy at the top of her lungs. She couldn't help herself, at the moment, let alone the boy Damien was beating. Yet, she still wished to try to stand on her own, "Stop… Why are you doing this?" Her face was covered in tears. She attempted to wipe them away with her sleeves, but they were moist with sweat. "Why are you killing people?"

Silence spread across the area. Damien stopped moving. His offender was dead, had been long dead- again. This silence was cold, more frigid than the tundra during winter, and calculated. Then, as if to auspicate noise, a wail filled the air. It was Damien. He held his head in his hands, coughing between cries, and fell to the corpse of the boy who, ruthlessly, had beaten him. His hands spread across the mangled flesh, skin, and clothes that dignified the in-personable item as a human being. He clutched the tattered remains of the shirt which Kaz had worn and pulled it from the cadaver. Then, stuffing it into his pocket he faced Missy. His eyes were set with quiet determination. Spreading from his soul, words came to mind, then to tongue, and then into the air where they were heard.

"Missy," stated Damien with his arms extended, "come." His voice wavered from his lack of stable breathing. "Come to me. We don't have anyone else…"

She stared at him for precious minutes that they'd wished would never end. Then, cautiously, she approached him. His body seemed to grow larger to her with each pressing step like her world was decreasing to the size of an atom. Then, tumbling into his arms, she cried once more. His head rested on her head, arms twined around her like vines sapping the life out of a tree, feeling the undulations of her breathing, sobbing, and sniffling. She needed to blow her nose. He noticed he did too. Approaching the body of the boy, Damien stated, "They were something like zombies… Not human anymore. Did you see the wounds on Kaz's body? They looked like animal marks. I know it sounds farfetched, but you gotta trust me. That's all we have." He took his hand to Kaz's clothes. Then, ripping some of the already torn fabric, Damien continued his objective. "Blow your nose."

Missy took the fabric in her hand daintily. She seemed to be recovering from the upset which had recently occurred. Her eyes were now died in red. Damien looked at her even more tentatively now. His incentive was to memorize his dear love before he or she would part this world. Though, he had always had an interest in her, her features were never more defined. The profound beauty of this girl in this moment was something that he'd always dreamed of. He quickly shook that feeling off of his conscience allowing him to focus on a more pressing subject. That subject that took him on the fringe of emotion was a plausible plan to escape from the violence that was soon to occur. As he contemplated moving through the back gate not too far from here they were positioned, a siren blared in his ears. Missy was taken back by this as well. She stumbled from her lowered position and scraped her knee. The cut wasn't deep, but it was deep enough to cause Damien to worry. He quickly reached in his pocket and removed a small latex band-aid to place on her knee. She accepted it quickly, covering the unprotected area, and hoped that it would not scar. Damien, looking around for any other refugees or zombies, hoped she'd not been infected by all the blood. He smiled, stating, "At least this should be easier than '28 Days Later' or 'Resident Evil'. After all, real life is not that complicated."


End file.
